Nobody Knows
by Nigihayami Haruko
Summary: Nobody knows the regrets that we have, the forgiveness that we seek. Nobody knows the perfect blossom we strive to find, the one that forever eludes us. Nobody know that they're all in front of us, waiting for us to see them


**Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. Neither do I lay claim to the song lyrics which are probably owned by the ever-so-talented-won't-you-marry-me-please Barry Manilow. Darn it.**

Nobody Knows

_Even Now_

_I wake up crying in the middle of the night_

_And I can't believe it could still hurt so bad_

He awoke with a start, turning to the warmth that emanated from his side. She was there, she was there. Sighing with relief, he lay on his back resting his arm across his eyes, hoping to lull himself back to sleep. Startled by a strange sensation, it was only when he touched the damp spot on his cheek and the damp spots below his eyes that he noticed he had been crying.

"Wha?"

It's been awhile, far too long awhile since he had shed a tear.

_Even Now_

_That I have come so far_

The dreams came back in little starts with images trickling through the barriers that he had carefully erected, barriers that have been built since that time. And though time has raced between that moment ten years ago and the man that he was today, it was only now that he realized time meant absolutely nothing, not with the memories, not with the tears. Time neither forgets nor comforts, it simply mercilessly marches forth.

Careful not to disturb the treasure by his side, he stealthily slid off the covers while tucking it snugly over the huddled form before padding off.

_Even Now_

_When I come shining through_

_I swear I think of you_

_And how I wish you knew_

The room looked like it always did, wooden floors with study columns supporting the heavy frame. But there certainly wasn't anything hard about the room, no, not with the warmth that encompassed the sweet memories he had here. There are just some things that time can't take away from him.

Smiling as he looked at the barely visible dent on the polished surface, he could not stop the vision of the flame haired little boy and his mischievousness getting the better of his mother. How gentle she was, even in anger, or disappointment, or sorrow, or heartache…

Clenching his fists from the onslaught of emotions, he let out a growl, more so directed at his pain than anything else. He remembered how those brilliant sapphire eyes clouded over with more than salt water, and how they still shone despite the hurt that she could never really leave behind. But most of all, he remembered how he was the perpetrator, part of the equation of sorrow which he tried to sever from her.

Crouching down to caress the dent that deceptively blended into the woodwork, he sighed.

_Even Now_

_When I never hear your name_

Memories were memories, shadows like the ones that played across the shoji, the floor, and the walls, pieces of the wind that could never be caught or tamed. Still, as he remained there, close to the floor, the moonlight glinting off his blood red locks, the memories seemed more real than ever.

_Even Now_

_I still remember_

Lying comfortably on the floor, he closed his eyes conjuring up the images that only he knew, pictures, like broken fragments of a mirror, which reminded him more than he wanted to recall. There were the memories of her, wielding her anger in the perfect picture of life and the joy in living, these scenes were intermingled with her spiked-hair student, so much a part of their lives that it seemed so strange that he was living apart from them now. Tilting his head to gaze at the moonlight quietly shining down, he wondered if they had any regrets. Surely life for them was ladened with things that were broken beyond repair… things like the light in her eyes.

_I wonder where you are_

_I wonder why it's still so hard without you_

What would _he_ have thought had he been here to witness all this? Was this the home that _he_ had left that many years ago?

A shaking hand reached out to rake the thick strands of golden-copper locks. He was told that this was a reminder of things that had passed. But as his catlike eyes glinted all too brightly in the dimly lit dojo, he wondered too, when these telltale signs of his heritage would finally be laid to rest. When would the ghosts of the battles long fought and the era gone by truly find their end?

Picking himself up, he softly padded to where the bokkens were lined up against the wall. Even in the darkness he had no trouble finding what it is that he wanted. Despite the years lived apart from this home of his, he knew everything like the back of his hand.

Reaching up to where his destination was, he was not disappointed when his callused sword-wielding palm touched the hilt of the sword. He tugged it gently off the wall and cradled it gently to his chest. This was it, the reason for his endless nights of dreams.

_And the feeling's still the same_

_And this pain inside of me goes on and on_

"You don't understand, do you?"

He murmured, more to the sword than to himself, for he knew that within it lay the slumbering spirit and memories of _him_, the one person who truly knew what the sword was made for.

"You think that the guilt you carry is borne only until you relieve it through your merits and good deeds, that _even then_ you still are cursed."

Releasing one hand from the sword, he reached up to his left cheek, the place where two lines once met to form the greatest legend that the world was to know. Yet there he was, a broken man with nightmares of the wounds that never heal, the cross that forever bled.

"But you just don't see do you? Do you?"

Unsheathing the sword in one swift and practised movement which only a master could manage, he slashed the empty air and the imaginary opponent that lay in his tortured mind.

Left, right, up, down, diagonally, parry, strike, thrust, slash… all the movements unpredictable yet fluid, vicious yet strikingly beautiful at the same time. This was a man who knows the pain of growing up, the scars that battles can bring, and he too, was a man who knows the fleeting happiness that should be sought and the bittersweet joy it can bring.

_Even now_

He knew not when he finally stopped or when it was that she stepped into the room. Yet he could distinctly feel the gentle pressure on his sword arm as he slowed to a stop, his breathing harsh and erratic.

"Stop." She commanded.

It was all he needed.

Crumpling onto the floor, it was all he could do not to fall into her waiting arms, crushing himself against the familiar scent that he welcomed and has been waiting for.

"Ken-"

"Shh." He whispered hoarsely, still a little winded from his recent exertion. "Please don't say anything, please."

She nodded, and though he could not see it, he knew that she would not speak, for her arms tightened around him in that familiy embrace that he missed so dearly.

_And the world has changed so much_

_Since you've been gone_

They lay there for eternity, for the few seconds that spanned a lifetime he was waiting for. The world could spin out of its axis and it would mean nothing to him, for he was given this minute and it sufficed.

But like all other moments, this one ended all too soon.

Pulling away from him, she smoothed his unruly locks, all too fondly, all too gently. He could not recall a time she was this careful with him, as though he would break, and it frightened him beyond belief because he knew that it meant she was not real, she was not who she used to be.

"You must learn to let it go, you know. It wasn't his fault he had to leave."

Tightening his jaw though his arm limply gripped her waist, he turned his face, refusing to look into the eyes that would crumble all the feelings he held so dearly.

"Nothing's the same anymore." He replied petulantly, as though that could solve all their problems, yet in some way it did.

"Of course, love. If everything remains the same, there would be no change in seasons, no rivers flowing, no birds flying south… the world is a land of change and that is what we can trust in."

Gently wiping the moisture off his forehead, she smiled at his reaction. _He has not changed._

"Why did you take the sword off the wall?"

She turned the question over; deflecting the questioning gaze he sent her way, concentrating instead on wiping him.

"I needed to." He answered simply, and she understood.

She nodded in approval.

"There's no need for forgiveness, it's much too hard. Begin with understanding and acceptance."

He flinched from the truth in her words.

"But it's too late. He's gone already."

The pain in the words could only be lost in the overwhelming sadness that he could not hide.

_I wonder where you are_

_I wonder why it's still so hard without you_

"After all these years…" He sighed heavily, as though the weight of the ten lost years, the blood that was shed, the tears that flowed, were all his burdens to bear.

"After all these years, you never told him what you wanted to say."

She pulled him close to her breast, calming him with the reality he wished to confess, the words hidden behind the meaning, trapped within his ignorance and pure immaturity.

"And he'll never know! He'll never know!"

He clutched onto her, his heart latching onto the buoy she thrown out to him. Sobbing, he released the years of regret, the sunsets he'll never enjoy, the sakura blossoms that went unappreciated and the man he'll never see again.

"What wouldn't he know?"

Tilting his head slightly so he could see the love and warm empathy spilling from her eyes, he unhesitatingly spoke.

"That I loved him."

_Even Now_

_I still remember_

_And the feeling's still the same_

_And this pain inside of me goes on and on_

She teared up at his confession. All these years she knew the heartache the man in her arms endured and the childhood he was robbed of… for him to say the words that lay buried beneath layers and layers of hatred and anger must have taken every ounce of love and pain to say.

"Oh love."

"… And that I want his forgiveness…"

"What forgiveness?"

He hesitated, as though questioning his motives and actions. What was it that he really wanted after all these years and animosity between them?

But as his gaze locked on the sword laying barely a feet from him, the sword that was wielded to protect and to cherish, he knew what it was he had to do.

"For hating him, when all I wanted was his love."

_Even Now_

_When I come shinin' through_

_I swear I think of you_

* * *

Sunlight filtered through the opened door and woke the slumbering man lying on the wooden floor. And as he lay there, the world was waking up; the woman in the other room had already gotten out of the futon in search of her husband.

"Anata! Anata!"

She stopped calling out for him when his prone form came into her view. Rushing to him, she was startled to see him clutching onto a sword, the one that usually hung on the wall. Normally he would refuse to look at it and getting him to hold it would take more persuasion and arguments. However, looking at the gentle smile that adorned his face, she could not help but smile along.

"What are you dreaming of?" She wondered as she went off in search for a blanket to warm her sleeping husband.

It was only when her back was turned that a lady and man approached the dozing redhead.

_And God I wish you knew_

The man, a mirror image of the redhead with his blazing locks and gentle eyes, knelt down to brush the sleeping man's hair.

The lady, her midnight hair setting off the warmth in her sapphire eyes, smiled softly as she rested her palm on his shoulder, the same one that comforted the smiling young man lying on the floor in quiet repose.

"He's learning isn't he, _koishii_." He could not help the swirl of lavender in his eyes deepening to a richer blue. The boy was finally on his way to happiness.

Everyone searches for the perfect blossom, only few ever find it.

"Ahh, Shinta, our son has finally grown up."

Kenshin stood up as his left arm looped around his petite wife's comfortably as though it belonged there forever.

"Then our work is done."

Kaoru bent down to lay a last kiss on her son's forehead, a fleeting touch by an angel.

"Sleep, my son, you have a long day ahead of you."

As she stood up to join Kenshin by his side, the redhead whispered his final words to his only heir.

"I love you too."

_Somehow_

_Even Now_

* * *

When she returned, blanket in hand, she was surprised to see something that was not there before – a single beautiful blazing sunset orange blossom lying by Kenji's side. And as she laid the thick woolen comforter over him, she did not miss the single word that spilled out of his lips as he burrowed deeper into the soft material.

"Otousan."

**END**

A/N: Finally! This has been lying in my computer, dormant for a long long time. I hope that you don't find it too slow and angsty or drawn out. It's really hard getting into Kenji's head, and even harder hiding his identity until the end, please tell me if I was successful. Most importantly, I don't want to recreate something that lot of talented authors have done before – delve into the psyche of Kenji and use his anger as a means of explaining who he is and what he has become. Hopefully I have managed to bring out another aspect of his character and reconcile his spiteful personality with his innate ability to love and forgive, two things that his parents are renowned for.

Just in case you're wondering, in Seisshouhen, Kaoru called Kenshin 'Shinta' because it was his request of her. However, I still call him otherwise, because it would sound strange and I didn't want to confuse you. Confusing yeah.

**The Story:** I do understand that some do get confused by my stories-sigh- what a failure as an author.

Basically, Kenji is haunted by the memory of Kenshin and how he has to continuously live in his father's shadow. Now, older and wiser (married too), he is plagued still by his father's memories and the pain his mother endured in his growing years. That night, he awakens from a re-ocurring nightmare andKenji goes to the dojo in an attempt to banish them once and for all. There, he meets his mother's spiritand learns that all he ever wanted was some kind of confirmation that he was loved and to remember the love that he had for his father. In the morning, his parents visit him before they finally return to Heaven, hence the little reference to angels.

Alrighty, to conclude, this fic is dedicated to 2 very artistically and literarily important people to me – **Tsuki-san **and **Jerjonji **for their endless support and encouragement through my writer's block and all the little nitty gritty things in life. Keep writing and keep inspiring us all with your talent.

And as always, reviews are greatly appreciated because it's the only way I know whether I'm improving or sliding back.

_Domo Arigatou._

Haruko


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